


partner

by ndnickerson



Series: Red Label [28]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Crime Fighting, Doggy Style, F/M, Family, Investigations, Light Bondage, Married Couple, Married Sex, Undercover, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for killingstreak's birthday! Ned and his partner call Nancy in to help on an investigation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	partner

Nancy was working on the references for her latest discovery report when her office phone rang, in two short shrill bleats. Compulsively she tapped the key combination that would save her file, then swept up the receiver. "Nancy Nickerson."

"Nancy? My office, please."

She recognized the voice, but she glanced down at the identification screen on her phone. Lisa Sheridan, her boss's boss. "Be right there."

She collapsed the document she had been working on as she slipped her stockinged feet into her pumps. As she reached for her keyring, her gaze fell on the framed photos of her family, and she had to smile. The pictures had been taken just after Anna's first birthday, and all five of them had dressed in white button-down shirts and jeans, their feet bare. She loved the one of Ellie placing a flower garland on Anna's head, and the one of Ned with his arms around Jamie. Ned and Jamie looked more alike every day now, it seemed. The largest one was all five of them together, with Nancy and Ned seated on the ground, Anna between them, Jamie standing beside Nancy with her arm around his waist, and Ellie leaning against her father on the other side.

Nancy smoothed her hair, then stood, checking her watch and mentally calculating. If the meeting didn't take too long—and she was already going over all her recent cases in her head, hoping that she hadn't royally fucked something up—she would likely have the report finished in a little under an hour.

Since Nancy worked in trial research and spoke to state's attorneys, their assistants and deputies, and detectives all day, she dressed well and kept a polite smile on her face at all times, even though she'd privately marked a handful of the people she had met as assholes at best, corruptible liars at worst. She didn't see any visitors when she left her office area, pausing only to tell Alex, the new receptionist, where she was going. Alex had dark hair and eyelashes as long as Nancy's fingernails, and many of the single—or unhappily taken—women, and a few of the men, who worked in Nancy's office building had made excuses to come meet him and welcome him.

She knew Alex was gorgeous. She rated his hotness at seventy-five percent of Ned's.

She was glad she had picked out a sleeveless cream blouse with a butterfly collar and a navy pencil skirt that morning. At least if she was being called to a meeting with some important purpose, she looked professional. Idly she reached up and touched the pearl teardrop earring hanging from her right lobe, then glanced down at her wedding band, taking a slow breath as she approached the administration wing.

Sheridan's assistant waved her in, and Nancy walked into the inner office—and was immediately aware of the two men also in attendance, apparently waiting for her. One of them was her husband.

"Nancy. Please, have a seat."

Nancy's smile faltered for a second when she saw Ned—seeing him at work could mean bad news just as easily as good—but his answering smile reassured her, and she took the offered seat. Bill was sitting on Ned's other side, and he gave Nancy a little wave.

"I thought it would be easier to talk to you than to do this over the phone. Detectives Nickerson and Stott," she nodded in their direction, "have brought me the appropriate paperwork, and I've been asked to lend them your services for an ongoing investigation. You are, of course, allowed to refuse." Sheridan, a dark-skinned woman with tight shoulder-length curls, interlaced her fingers and raised her eyebrows. Nancy had heard that Sheridan had been born male, but it had never mattered to her; she respected Sheridan because she didn't back down from conflict or holding people accountable, either those below or those above her.

Nancy took a breath, not trusting herself to look over at Ned. They would probably both end up grinning if she did. Despite the horror of the Nash case, she and Ned loved working together—especially when neither one of them was in danger. "I have a report to finish up," she said. "I can pass the rest to Eddie, if you want. But I'm willing to work with them—with the detectives."

Sheridan nodded. "All right. You'll be on a leave of absence with pay until your consultation is complete. Please return her in one piece, gentlemen."

With that it was done, so fast that Nancy's head was spinning a little. Sheridan's attention had already returned to her computer, and so Nancy, Bill, and Ned filed out.

"So what's this about? Here, we can go to my office."

Ned's hand brushed Nancy's when they were walking back to Nancy's department, and when she took it in hers, Bill groaned. "And _this_ is why I'm glad I won't be around you two during this. Sooooo much PDA."

"Shut up, Stott," Ned said good-naturedly.

"Oh, hello," Stott said when they were passing the receptionist's desk. "CPD, Detective Stott. Nice to meet you."

"Alex," the receptionist said with a smile, shaking hands.

Nancy couldn't help grinning up at Ned, who was looking at the receptionist too. Then he looked back at Nancy.

"Don't worry," she whispered, standing up in her heels to brush her lips against his earlobe. "He definitely can't compete with the father of my children."

Ned squeezed her hand gently. "Good."

"Come on, Bill," Nancy said. "Alex, this is my husband Ned... Detective Nickerson."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Ned replied as he shook Alex's hand.

"If he ever calls, you can always put him straight through to me."

Alex nodded, and then Nancy turned to continue leading the way to her office. "Better watch out, Bill," she told Ned's parter. "You talk to him too much and Chandler'll sense it—and maybe fall for Alex."

Bill shuddered. "Perish the thought," he said.

It really was nice to see her husband during a workday, and knowing that she would be on paid leave during their investigation was all the more exciting. "So?" she asked, rounding her desk to take her seat as Ned gestured for Bill to take the more comfortable guest chair, and he grabbed a hard plastic one Nancy generally used as additional file storage.

"So," Ned began, leaning forward. "I seem to remember a case you investigated when you were a junior at Emerson. It involved a lot of really nice, well-protected homes burgled by someone who seemed to just walk through walls."

Nancy nodded eagerly. "Yes. It turned out that the burglar had a contact with the alarm company. He would go out to the home and cut the telephone cord, and then his inside man would go in to do the repair—and would casually reset the alarm, while asking for the disarm code. Then the inside man would report to the burglar when the system had been armed for an extended period of time—say, eighteen hours. Most of the time they were too naive to reset the code, and so the burglar had free reign."

Ned and Bill exchanged a glance. "Well. That worked back then, but now, there's no telephone line to cut. The affluent homeowner has an uninterruptible cell service to the alarm system. But the same thing is happening."

"And Jasper Harrod is behind bars still? He would be my first suspect, depending on what's being stolen."

"Do you remember what Harrod's preferred loot was?" Stott had taken out his small notebook, and he glanced up at Nancy.

"Hmm. He generally backed a service van up to near the house, and he liked to be in and out in a brief period of time—ooh! Yes. I think he disguised himself as a cleaning service on some jobs. He was able to take trash bags out of the homes. The inside man could scout out potential valuables, because most of the time, the homeowners had motion detectors placed in those rooms. Coin collections, objets d'art like Fabergé eggs or jade carvings, jewelry that wasn't protected by a safe, that kind of thing."

"He had to have a fence, though."

Ned was watching Bill and Nancy's rapid-fire conversation with some amusement. "I'm not sure who that was," she admitted. "I found out that the security companies protecting each house were different, but each homeowner told me about a service call within a month before the robbery, and their general descriptions matched. Harrod couldn't pay off actual security guards as easily as his friend."

"But he didn't bother waiting until night or anything."

Nancy shook her head. "He didn't have to," she pointed out. "He looked like someone the neighbors would have expected to see—and many of these homes have high privacy fences, or tall hedges. He was basically able to do whatever he wanted."

"Which doesn't help you predict future victims."

Nancy brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "It didn't," she agreed. "Is that what you're trying to do?"

Ned nodded. "The suspect, and we believe it's the same suspect, has hit five houses so far. No sign of forced entry. Different security companies—well, there is overlap between two, but that's not all that unusual. The problem is that we have no fingerprints, no idea who this guy, or girl, is, and no idea how to stop it."

"And Bill asked about the fence just in case you could track him that way."

Ned nodded. "But we'll take any insight you can offer. We were handed the case yesterday, and the victims are putting pressure on the mayor's office—"

"Which trickles down to you two," Nancy said. "So let's brainstorm, after I finish this report. Want me to meet you two down at the station?"

"Sure," Bill said with a nod. "That sounds great."

Ned smiled as he rose, coming over to Nancy's chair. She tilted her face up to accept the kiss he was leaning down to give her. "See you soon, beautiful."

"See you soon," she answered. She already knew that finishing the report was going to make her frustrated. She couldn't wait to start the investigation.

\--

At five-oh-five, Nancy was sure that they needed to canvas the owners of the collections and ask about what had happened in the weeks before the robberies. They needed lists of employees, of service calls, logs from security guards, all of it. The three of them had decided to divide and conquer in the morning, meet downtown for lunch and compare notes, then discuss strategy.

In the meantime, Nancy was excited and dizzy with possibility. Much of what she did at her daily job was routine investigation, tracking down precedent and logs and reports, and she did enjoy it much more than her previous job, but the active investigation part was done on Ned's end, with people like him and Stott. She loved doing live interviews, tracking down criminals herself, feeling the rush of it. She thought the fence lead was a good one to chase down, and they couldn't eliminate the security system angle yet.

Over dinner, Ned flashed her a grin several times, and Nancy returned it. Jamie and Ellie told them about their day, and Anna tackled her chicken nuggets, carrots, and peas with gusto. Their usual after-dinner routine of letting Jamie and Ellie tire Sadie out in the backyard while they played with Anna, then supervised their children as they finished the homework, settled in for half an hour of television viewing, then made sure they were all bathed, teeth brushed, and put to bed... Nancy went through it all with the investigation still churning in the back of her mind, so much that when Ned came to bed, Nancy had one of her small notebooks out, and she was busily making notes to herself about what to check out in the morning.

Ned chuckled quietly. "God, it takes me back, seeing you like this," he told her as he took his shirt off. "Most of the reason I ask you to help out is seeing that glint in your eye."

Her lips curved up. "Oh, is that all?"

He shook his head. "Not quite," he called to her, vanishing into their bathroom to brush his own teeth.

She knew that she needed plenty of rest to deal with the morning, making breakfast and organizing everything so their children would be ready, then working on their investigation, but she was too keyed up to sleep. Even the small noises—shifts in Ned's breathing, the house settling—had her blinking awake. She slept with her back against Ned's front, his arm draped over her, comforting and solid.

She remembered feeling this way when she had been seventeen, departing in the morning for some distant destination, a worried friend or acquaintance having given her a thumbnail sketch of their problem. She remembered well how excited she had been when Ned had been able to go with her. Oh, they had had so many opportunities to be alone back then, but Ned had always been a gentleman. He had always left her lightheaded from sweet kisses at her hotel room's door, with a promise that he would see her in the morning, his lips curving up in the familiar smile that made her heart melt. She had been afraid to take things further, and he had never wanted to pressure her.

Now, though? Oh, oh God, if she could go back, if she could be seventeen again, only vaguely aware of the desire she felt for him. She would have learned him slow, not all at once in that terrible dark night. She couldn't, and didn't, regret her decision to sleep with him and give herself to him the night of his parents' deaths, but there had been only need and answer, sorrow and balm. They had been fumbling, children, and there had been so many chances before.

The thought of it brought a soft ache to her throat. In the years before that one Ned had been there to comfort and distract her on the anniversaries of her mother's death, and now she and Ned had their children, the son and daughters they cherished above anything and anyone else. They had found their sweetness in the ashes of so much loss.

They had slept apart and he had burned for her. He had needed her, wanted her, loved her, and she had kept him at arm's length, always afraid that she might break his heart.

After a moment she turned onto her other side so she was facing him, reaching up in the dark to barely stroke the indistinct line of his cheek. He had taught her love, and she loved him so much.

"Mmm," he murmured in his sleep.

She nestled against his chest, her lips against his breastbone, the crown of her head tucked under his chin. She wore one of his old undershirts that had been accidentally stained in the wash and a pair of lace-trimmed boyshorts, and he felt so warm and safe against her. He smelled like home, that specific combination of soap, the spicy musk of his sweat and the warmth of his cologne, his skin and shampoo. She kissed him and he murmured again in response, shifting closer to her.

"Babe," he murmured, the word coming out as a half-sigh. Then his hand clumsily slipped under her shirt, his palm against the bare small of her back.

He didn't resist when she rolled him onto his back, fingertips trailing feather-light over his shoulders and chest, pressing soft kisses along the stubbled line of his neck, his adam's apple, the hollow of his collarbone, the faint scar that the gunshot wound had left in his chest. She knew he was awake when he threaded his fingers through her loose hair, and she kept working her way down, kissing his chest, his nipples, the firm line of each rib and each indentation between, the rippling muscles of his abs. She nuzzled against his belly button, the coarse hair beneath brushing against her lips.

"Hmm?" His murmured voice wasn't more than an inflection, and she pushed herself up to see his eyes open and gleaming.

Once they were naked, she explored him as she hadn't in a long time. When they made love they knew what they wanted; they hungered for the joining and the intimacy, the release, especially once Jamie had been born and their time totally alone together had begun to dwindle. She stretched herself out, half-draped over his side, and stroked his hip, his inner thighs, then bent and brushed her lips against his knees, his ankles. She stroked his shins and calves, the dark hair on his legs, and when she slid her knee between his legs and rose, he was reaching for her, his fingertips just brushing her waist.

He moved over her, kissing her in return, nuzzling against every scar and stretch mark, and she shuddered when his tongue moved in another wet firm stroke against her skin. Every now and then his fingers flexed, his teeth glanced against her, and she tensed, her lips parting in a silent pant; then he remembered himself and she relaxed, her lashes fluttering down as he kissed her inner thigh.

They had made love slow like this during their engagement, early in their marriage, in sun-soaked afternoons, lazy mornings, weekend nights after rum-drenched parties. They learned each other again and she was shivering, slick and clenching in anticipation between her thighs, their lips meeting in soft teasing kisses as she arched against him. It was sweetness and love, and though their first times together had hurt her, she felt an echo of that same wonder and desire when they were like this. She never wanted to take this for granted, but the thought of not being with him this way made her ache with desperation.

She gasped, threading her fingers through his hair as he began to move inside her, the hot hard length of him parting her tender flesh. They nuzzled together, lips brushing each other, and she gasped harshly as his teeth caught her earlobe. They rolled together, so he was on his back, then so she was on hers; when he finally thrust fully inside her she whimpered, baring her throat, clinging to him.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, _yes_..."

"I love you," he breathed, and his voice, low and gravelly with sleep, seemed to vibrate down her spine, darkly sensual. She wrapped her leg around him, her hips tilting in response to his thrusts, gasping for breath.

"I love you."

The rhythm they found together, they fell into easily. The bedsprings creaked in response to his thrusts, her heart thudded in her ears, and the sound of him moving in and out of her, the slick tenderness of her sex as she took his thrusts—she shuddered, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, lashes fluttering against his chest. When he slipped a hand between them to find her clit, she sucked in a breath, the tension of her climax twisting in her, hard in her belly.

Then he rolled over and she mounted him, tossing her hair, feeling too exposed, but the desire and lust on her husband's face when he saw her bare breasts and when he touched her between her thighs was too much. When she had been seventeen, this would have been unfathomable—being naked with him, straddling his waist, taking his long, thick, hard cock into her own body and actually feeling _pleasure_ when she did... Even when they had been at Emerson together, she had always cried off, knowing that once they were together this way there would be no going back.

She never wanted to go back. She loved this, but she loved the man under her, his long-lashed dark eyes and silky dark hair and hard muscular body, as she had never and would never love anyone else. He had given her the babies that meant more to her than life itself, and making love with him—oh, she could never love anyone else like this. Their bodies fit so perfectly, and they knew each other so well that within a moment of the shift in their positions, she was quivering on the cusp of her orgasm, his thumb fluttering against her clit.

"Oh, oh God _yes_ ," she moaned. "Oh _fuck_..."

Her hips began to jerk in response to her climax, as she whimpered and sobbed silently, and Ned arched under her. She clenched her inner flesh hard around him and he snarled a curse, grasping her hips.

Then he rolled her onto her back again and began to rut inside her, his fingers teasing her clit to draw her to another climax, and she barely had time to grab a pillow and draw it over her face before she was screaming, sucking in breath with such desperation that she almost choked. Her spine stiffened and she sobbed as he slowed his thrusts, his lips against her shoulder, her throat.

"Mine," he whispered.

She whimpered, tensing as she took his next thrust. "Always," she breathed, one arm still looped under the pillow as she wrapped the other around his shoulders. "Mine."

"Always," he murmured, shifting the angle of his hips, cupping her ass and rubbing harder against her clit, and she buried her face against his chest and screamed.

Ned stiffened over her, reaching his own climax, and she drew him down to her, clinging to him, panting for breath. They were both spent, gleaming with sweat, and Nancy would have been beyond mortified if either of their children chose that moment to come into their room, but the house stayed quiet and still around them. Her shoulders and hips and abs twitched with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and she closed her eyes, shivering when Ned brushed his lips against her neck.

She knew they needed to part, to clean themselves up, but it was too hard to move. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his jaw, his cheek, holding him and loving him just as she had since their first night together. He nuzzled against her in return, brushing his lips against the tip of her nose, her earlobe.

"You're everything to me," he whispered into her ear, and she shuddered. "I love you so much."

"And I love you," she whispered, tensing and relaxing when he finally parted from her.

\--

Ned was waiting in the car, shifting uncomfortably in the seat, when he saw his wife's car pull up behind his. He smiled, straightening a little, his cold coffee and boredom forgotten. He had just unlocked the doors when she opened the passenger's side and slid into the seat.

"How'd it go?"

Nancy shrugged. "It was fine. Her favorite part was digging through the toybox after, though. She _hated_ the X-rays."

"And that doesn't get any better," Ned commented, stretching a little.

"Any update?"

Ned shook his head, glancing over at the gate at the large house. A professional moving service truck was parked in the driveway, and Ned's cell phone was on his lap, still dark and silent.

They were playing a hunch, one Ned hoped was a good one. Bill and a female officer were posing as new arrivals, in a suitably expensive house the realtor had agreed to let them use for the operation. Bill and Tara were taking turns gushing about new additions to their personal collection of art, but each vendor and service technician was told about a different item. Ned had the boring work of calling in license plate numbers and descriptions, trying to spot any discrepancies, anything that might point out the culprit or the inside man. Nancy was coming by to relieve the boredom, and provide her insights. So far they had checked out the realtors who had worked with the other victims, insurance agents and agencies—since of course the collections would need to be insured—and a dozen other vendors. Even someone as innocuous as a pool cleaner or landscape gardener might be the link they needed.

Nancy had taken the morning off so she could take Ellie to her cleaning at the dentist's office, but as usual, she was bubbling with enthusiasm now. "What about places that provide credit checks?" she pointed out. "If they went through the same vendor for safes... if they went to the same antiques broker?"

Ned grinned. "I love when you're like this," he told her. Twelve or even ten years ago, he would never have believed it. When she had been investigating and in danger, he had been panicked for her, so worried about her—but he loved how happy it made her. He felt the same rush when he was tracking down clues and suspects, when he was helping someone who had been hurt. The thrill was like nothing else, and he was glad for the chances he'd found to share it with her, even if it wasn't nearly so often as either of them wanted.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Let me make some calls," she said. "Sub for lunch?"

"Definitely," he said. "Although I think the afternoon's pretty light, so maybe our cover will need to be meeting in the car to drive to some swanky hotel for a few hours of illicit passion..."

"A few hours?" Her eyes twinkled. "That sounds rather scandalous. _And_ like an expense your captain won't sign off on."

"Mmm. Didn't you do a favor for the manager of the Perrinault?"

She nodded slowly. "You weren't kidding when you said 'illicit,' huh," she murmured, leaning toward him, her lashes low. Ned swallowed hard.

"Never hurts to try."

"Mmm." She nuzzled against his ear, and Ned grasped her knee. "And it would just be for cover?"

"A very thorough, convincing, possibly the kind that involves your nails down my back, cover."

"Well." He brought the blade of his hand up between her thighs, and she shoved it away. "Be a good boy, and let me go make my phone calls, and we'll just see."

\--

_Camille Russo._ Nancy shook her head. She would never have guessed. Never. Even now, she was wondering if all the evidence had been misleading, if they had somehow been mistaken—but she was here just as their tip had said she would be, her white hair perfectly coiffed, steel in her eyes as she accepted a highball glass from the waiter.

Jamie, Ellie, and Anna were with Bess and Terry for the evening, and Nancy missed her children. She was also bursting with impatience and anticipation. While they had been checking out vendors discovered through Bill and Tara's undercover operation, another house had been robbed, and when she and Ned and Bill and Tara had been going over all the data they had amassed during the investigation and trying to find any correlations, they had finally found one. A subcontractor four of the victims had used for remodeling—or, more accurately, had indirectly hired through someone else for remodeling—had been used as a locksmith on another job. And in each case, they had discovered that Camille Russo, a formidable sight at many of Chicago's most glittering fundraisers and galas, had been the person who had recommended the services. Of course her friends wanted the very best, and she had always been happy to provide her expertise. And the means to rob them of what some of them treasured most.

"But why?" Bill murmured from Nancy's other side. Try as he might, Bill looked uncomfortable in his dark suit and diamond-patterned tie. Nancy smoothed the waistline of her dark-gray gown; it was a simple but elegant cut, and the sparkle in Ned's eyes when he saw her in it made the constricting undergarments beneath it almost worthwhile. Ned looked totally at ease in his own best suit and indigo tie.

Nancy shrugged, reaching up to check her earrings before she even realized she was doing it. Ned had given them to her, and they were the most expensive pair she owned. She was paranoid about losing them. "Who knows? The thrill of it; old gambling debts..." Her fingertips brushed Ned's hand. "Maybe she's under orders."

Ned's gaze met hers, hot and dark, and she felt a warm tingling flush spread over her skin. God, since they had started working this case together, they'd been insatiable, and she loved it. He left hickeys just at the edge of where her clothes would hide them; he teased her, licked and sucked, stroked and caressed her until she was begging him to give her release—and then she did the same to him, losing herself in the speechless joy of their joining. It made her laugh, when they were naked and tangled around each other, her nails digging into his back or his hands cupping her hips hard enough to bruise, when one of them had a sudden epiphany about the case and spoke it aloud, and then they were building on each other's ideas, frantic and gasping as they went back and forth so fast their words began to blur, their fingers laced together, his muscles straining as they came together. They hadn't played their dominance game in a while... but just the thought of him ordering her around, playfully punishing her when she disobeyed him, made her wet.

"All right, kids," Bill said with a shake of his head. "We have work to do, remember?"

Ned squeezed Nancy's hand and released it. "We remember," he said, and Nancy thought he sounded a little sad. She felt sad, too. If Camille Russo was the culprit, or if she could lead them to the person who was, from there Ned and Bill would take over the investigation. Nancy would be back at her job, separated from him every workday, remembering how wonderful it had been to work a case with him again.

"Would you prefer something else?"

Nancy turned her attention back toward the bartender and gave him a dazzling smile. The bar was all sleek mahogany and muted golden light and plush upholstery, and for their cover, Nancy had ordered a vodka martini and a tall glass of iced water. She had only taken a few sips of the mixed drink, but she had topped off the glass with water to keep herself from ordering too many drinks and getting drunk. "No, no, thank you. It's just been a while," she told the bartender. "The drink is great."

When Ned's fingertips drifted down Nancy's back, she barely suppressed a shudder. He ducked to speak into the microphone tucked under the lapel of his jacket. "Borden, say again?"

Bill had straightened up on Nancy's other side. "Oooh," he said in a low voice. "Pay dirt."

Nancy propped her chin on her hand, turning as though she was addressing her husband, her stomach still fluttering at the warmth of his touch against her bare back. A tall man with platinum hair and dark eyes was approaching Camille's table, and she was observing him with a haughty stare. He was friendly, almost overly so, grinning as he gestured for a waiter; Camille's spine was ramrod-straight in her chair, her shoulders tensing.

"Charles Weaver," Ned muttered. "Sounds about right."

Nancy's eyes widened slightly. Her father had defended a few people who turned state's evidence against Charlie Weaver's gang, although Charlie Weaver technically wasn't the leader. They paid tribute to Lou Bartolo. And Bartolo definitely had the connections to fence priceless pieces of art without a trace.

Ned and Bill glanced at each other. "Sounds like we're about to kick this over to organized crime," Bill muttered, his jaw tightening.

Ned's smile was grim. "Not if I can help it," he replied.

In a split second, Nancy came up with a plan and thought it through. Camille's mouth was still set in a grim line; she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Nancy reached for Ned's hand again, threading her fingers through his, and she could so clearly feel each beat of her heart. Adrenaline was funny that way.

"Mmm?" Ned murmured, and Nancy's eyes met his.

"Give me a minute."

Making her gait obviously impaired by inebriation, Nancy headed toward the restroom and managed to walk by Camille's table. She only caught a few words of their conversation before Weaver cast a swift glance her way and clammed up, but it was enough. "Three weeks," and "four." She could guess the rest of it.

Nancy waited just outside the restroom until she saw Weaver push back his chair, and Camille tossed back the rest of her drink. Nancy could feel Ned's gaze on her, and she took some comfort from that. Ned always wanted to keep her safe, and she thought uncomfortably of the night he had been injured by that bullet because he had wanted to keep her and Ellie safe.

Camille had just put her empty glass down on the table when Nancy slipped into the seat across from hers, the one recently occupied by Weaver. "Mind if we talk?"

Camille was wary, but she was also tired and frustrated, and it was only when Nancy assured her that she wasn't a cop, she was only there to help, that the older woman told her what was going on. Her grandson had gambling debts, and Bartolo had bought them. He didn't want a straightforward repayment, though. He wanted Camille to work off the debt in other ways. Once she did him all the "favors" he asked, they would be even.

But, she had begun to realize, they would never be even; he would never let them be. Camille had even discovered that her grandson had begun gambling again, a behavior that Bartolo had no doubt encouraged or facilitated, if given the opportunity. She had cooperated because it was the only way to keep the whole thing quiet, but she cared less about that now.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted to Nancy with a sigh. "Tyson needs therapy. Rehabilitation. But this..." She shrugged an elegant shoulder.

Nancy glanced over at her husband and Bill, and when they saw her gesture slightly, they began to cross the room to Camille and Nancy. "I think I might be able to help," Nancy said, reaching over to pat the older woman's hand.

\--

She went home when Ned and Bill took Camille into custody, escorting her back to the station so they could get her statement in writing. It was so strange to walk into a dark, silent house; when she opened the back door, Sadie came inside. Sadie had her own doghouse, shaded and cozy on the back porch, but she spent most of her time inside when her humans were home.

The dog even followed Nancy upstairs, and she began to undress, to change into something more comfortable so she could go pick up the children. Idly she wondered when her husband would be home... but now that the case was over, as far as she was concerned, she felt the familiar letdown. She loved the adrenaline rush of it all, but the comedown was correspondingly worse.

She had just taken off her dress when her cell phone began to rang. She was surprised to see that Ned was calling her, and her heart began to beat harder. Maybe he had discovered a new wrinkle; maybe the case wasn't quite over...

"Hello?"

"Hey hon. You on the way to get the kids yet?"

"Not yet. Thought I'd change first," she told him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I thought I might go pick them up and save you the trip... or..."

"Or?"

Sadie had sniffed the comforter in the master bedroom, then sighed and headed back downstairs, waiting for Ned or Jamie to come home. Nancy looked down at the tight, shaping underwear she had wriggled into earlier.

"Or we could take advantage of the time alone before we go get them," Ned said, his voice low.

A warm shiver slid down her spine, arousal coiling low in her belly, between her thighs. "Mmm. Maybe just a little while," she murmured.

As soon as she hung up the phone, Nancy began to squirm out of the spandex shapewear, drawing a long deep glorious breath when she was finally free of it, her skin gleaming a little at the exertion. She knew that she was more self-conscious than she needed to be about her body and how it looked now, but she liked the lines of her clothes to be smooth and uninterrupted by the gentle bulges left by her pregnancies. She rubbed a hand over her belly before she opened her lingerie drawer, already smiling in anticipation.

She wore a silky black robe when she went downstairs to greet Ned, patting Sadie's sleek head when she lifted it inquisitively, then sat down on the couch with her legs crossed. She had wondered, in the back of her mind, whether the end of the case meant a return to their comfortable, more sedate sex life, the habits they had settled into once they had moved into his parents' house. It wasn't like he could bring her to full-throated screaming orgasm when their children were asleep down the hall. It wasn't like either of them wanted to explain the straps they kept tucked under the edges of the mattress. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time they had used those straps... it had to have been before she was pregnant with Anna.

It had been such a long time. And they didn't have all night.

Ned came in alone, greeting Sadie with a grin and scratching her behind her ears a few times. Then he straightened, gazing at Nancy. She had untied her robe and it fell open at her sides, revealing the silky rose camisole and shorts she wore.

"Hey beautiful," he murmured.

She smiled. "Hey," she murmured, stepping forward—and then Ned caught her in her arms, picking her up and spinning her around.

"You were great today," he told her. "You've been great this whole time. And I hate that we won't be working together tomorrow."

She ran her fingers through his hair, gazing into his eyes as he gently lowered her to the floor. "Me too," she admitted. "I loved it."

He leaned down, touching his forehead to hers. "Maybe that can be our retirement plan," he murmured, his hands slipping under her robe, stroking her through the thin fabric of her outfit. "We'll partner up and hire ourselves out, track down bail jumpers and people who owe back child support."

"Once Anna's out of school," Nancy chuckled. "It really will be our retirement plan, huh."

"It'll give us something to look forward to." He tipped his head to the side and nuzzled against her earlobe, her neck. "You look so damn sexy, babe."

She flushed a little, pleased by the compliment. "And that suit looks incredible on you."

He reached for his jacket and shrugged it off, draping it over the back of a dining room chair before returning to her. "And without it?"

"Divine," she murmured, her lashes fluttering down as he brushed his lips against the side of her neck. "Mmm."

He brought his head back up and kissed her, soft and sweet, and when he pulled back she looked into his eyes and felt her heart melt at the love she saw there. His lips brushed hers again, and she buried her fingers in his hair, following his lead as he backed her up. Her elbow brushed the back of a chair at the table, and she broke the kiss with a little sigh. "Upstairs," she whispered, catching his tie in her fist and tugging a little.

"No," he replied, stepping forward and deliberately rubbing the growing bulge beneath his fly against her. His dark eyes were glowing with desire.

Her lips turned up. "Catch me."

He didn't even have time to register her words before she was spinning away from him, and his fingertips only grazed her elbow. She ran for the stairs and Sadie began barking, her tail wagging; she thought they were playing, and they were. "Oh no you don't," Ned growled behind her, and she had almost reached the top step when he caught her robe in his hand and managed to cant her off-balance. She grabbed the handrail and spun so she was facing him, giggling as she sat down with a thump at the top of the stairs.

"Yes," she replied, grinning again.

He climbed the stairs until their faces were level. "Well, I doubt you want to have rug-burn on your back," he murmured. "So let's go to bed."

"Or you could be the one with the rug-burn," she pointed out, but she brought herself to her feet and walked down the hall to their bedroom. As soon as she crossed the threshold, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her back to his front; he was still aroused, and she closed her eyes as she looped her arm up behind his neck, her lashes fluttering as he slipped his other hand beneath her top and cupped her bare breast.

"Mmm," she moaned, flushing with pleasure. "God, I need you inside me."

"You know it," he murmured, gently nipping at the side of her neck as they walked toward the bed. She arched, languid, rubbing her ass against his erection, her breasts rising as she stretched. He groaned in answer, plucking at the tip of her breast.

"Ned?" she murmured, a renewed flush rising in her face.

"Mmm?"

"Tie me up?"

He groaned again. "God, it's been so long," he murmured, and she squealed, standing up on her toes when he slipped his hand into her silk shorts and cupped the join of her thighs. "Mmm. I wish I had the time to do it right. Blindfold you and tie you spread-eagled on the bed... kiss every inch of you, maybe use the clamps on you again because that was so _fucking_ hot..."

She moaned, rubbing against him as he stroked her clit with his thumb. "Fuck," she growled, reaching down to send her shorts sliding down her legs so she could step out of them. She pulled her top off in a fluid movement a second later, then climbed onto the bed, perching in the middle on her hands and knees, facing the foot—which meant she was facing the mirror over the dresser.

"Mmm, yeah," Ned growled at the sight of her, naked and ready for him. "You want the plug or my dick in that tight little ass?"

"Plug," she said. "Please, baby."

He pulled the restraints out from under the corners of the bed, and Nancy felt an answering wave of arousal between her thighs as she saw them, as he met her eyes to confirm that she still wanted him to tie her up. She shuddered when he bound her wrists, then her ankles.

He went to their drawer and came back with the lube, condoms, and the plug. She closed her eyes, bowing her head as she heard him preparing the supplies behind her, the familiar snap of the cap on the lube. He squirted some directly against the cleft of her ass, his fingers slick with it as he gently began to rim and tease her asshole—and then she groaned, spreading her knees even further apart as he began to tease her sex with his other hand.

"Mmm. Oh God, oh _yes_ ," she moaned as he slipped his fingers into her asshole and her pussy at the same time, moving them with the same rhythm. She felt her inner flesh pulse against him, and Ned growled in response.

"So fucking sexy," he growled. "God, Nan, if we had the time I'd see if we could beat our record."

She met his eyes in the mirror. "Anniversary," she gasped. "I want to be naked our entire anniversary. Tasting myself when I suck your fingertips. Fucking you on every piece of furniture. Your fingers in my hair and your teeth against my neck while you fuck me with a vibrator until you're hard again."

Her breathy voice became a scream at the end of it, as he slid his fingers up into her pussy and began to tap against her g-spot, frantically fondling her clit. She bucked, her nails dragging against the comforter as he began to work the plug into her, her hips trembling as she panted. Once it was firmly seated in her tight asshole, she parted her legs and began to fuck his fingers, her shoulders jerking with each tap of his fingers against her g-spot.

"Come," he growled. "I want you dripping wet and begging for it when I fuck you."

"Yes," she moaned, meeting his eyes again, and she loved the desire and hunger she saw there. "Oh yes oh _yes_ so good... fill me up, Ned, fuck me until I scream... oh, _please, please_..."

She ground her hips hard against his hand, bucking as he fondled her, and then he stood on his knees behind her, still fingering her as he lifted her with his other hand. Once she was on all fours again she licked her lips, her gaze still locked to his face.

He freed his cock and slipped his fingers out of her pussy to stroke himself with her arousal, and when he moved into place behind her, she was trembling in anticipation. "Yes," she begged, arching when his fingertips teased her clit again. "Yes _please please_..."

She shuddered as he first began to penetrate her, at how arousing it was to look into his eyes when they were having sex, at the feel of his fingertips against her clit, at the plug in her ass. She moaned loudly, tightening against him, moving back to meet his thrust, and when he was fully inside her, he squeezed her clit, bringing his other hand up to pinch and fondle her nipples.

" _Fuck!_ " she cried, panting harshly as he pulled out of her, then thrust into her again. "Oh my God oh _God oh God..._ "

"You're so fucking sexy," he said, thrusting hard into her. "So beautiful. You like this?"

"Yessss," she moaned. "More, _more_..."

She screamed at his next thrust, clenching him tight inside her, her lashes fluttering when he dug his thumb against her clit. "Oh fuck _yesss_ ," she sobbed.

"I'll give you anything you want," he told her, and her eyes were shining when she met his again. "My sexy, beautiful girl. More..."

She screamed again as he thrust into her. "Ohhhhhh," she sobbed, her hips quivering as she felt the tension of her orgasm approach the breaking point. "Oh God oh God _ohhhhhh yessss_..."

He flicked her clit hard with his thumb, then again, and her tender inner flesh clenched hard around him each time. Her scream went higher, ragged, until she tossed her hair and began to buck against him as he fucked her through her orgasm, until she couldn't think, until the whole world was just the two of them and the pleasure of feeling him inside her. She heard Ned groan as he stiffened and jolted against her, spending himself between her thighs, and her heart was speeding as she sighed in pleasure.

He slipped out of her, then eased the plug out, wiped her thighs and released her from the restraints. Instead of immediately dressing again, though, he reached for her and she wrapped herself around him, relaxing against him.

"I love you," he told her, kissing her temple, her cheekbone. "I love you, I love you so much..."

"And I love you," she whispered, her eyes closed, her fingertips stroking the back of his neck. "Always."

They carefully put everything away, and Nancy dressed again, changing into jeans and a t-shirt, spritzing herself with body spray and the bed with fabric refresher—and once they made it back home, she was glad for that. All five of them, plus Sadie, ended up on the bed: Anna was gently patting the dog, and Jamie and Ellie were telling them about the games they had played at their cousins' house. Ellie cuddled up to Nancy with a smile as Nancy stroked her dark hair, and Nancy looked at Ned and Jamie as they sat next to each other, looking at each other as they talked.

Eight years old. It was still hard to believe that eight years had passed since she had been pregnant with Jamie, or that Anna was already a year old.

Putting everyone to bed took a while, and Jamie asked permission to stay up a little while longer to finish the book he was reading. Nancy and Ned collapsed into their bed, exhausted and happy, and she stroked his hair, closing her eyes.

He kissed her forehead, releasing a contented sigh, and soon they were both asleep.

\--

Two weeks later they had settled back into their usual routine, and Ned gave her updates on how the case was proceeding before they fell asleep together, while she was telling him about her day, too. Nancy couldn't help wishing that Ned would be given another case that he could call her in on, but in the meantime, she was more than happy to have the time with their children, helping on homework and school projects and bonding with them.

Nancy was mentally planning a trip to the local library on Saturday—Anna could go to story time, while Jamie and Ellie looked through the books and movies for things they might like—when she came back from an errand at the clerk's office. Alex nodded at her when she crossed through the reception area, and she smiled back, still a little distracted. She saw Rich trying to chat up one of the new hires, although as soon as he saw her, he gave her a little grin. Nancy shook her head a little, waving in return. She had been thankful when Rich had begun to turn his attention elsewhere, but she made a mental note to talk to the new member of the staff, just to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable.

The lights were on in Nancy's office, and she frowned as she walked in. She had turned them off before she had headed out. She began to shrug her purse down to her elbow so she could return it to its usual place—

And then Ned stood, rising from her guest chair, and Nancy's heart immediately rose too. "Ned! Is everything okay?"

He nodded. "I just needed an expert on trial prep," he told her, then moved behind her to lock her office door. "All afternoon, if you're available. We're going after Bartolo, and I thought we could use your expertise."

Her mind was already racing as she searched his eyes, and then he cupped her cheek. "That sounds like it might take a while," she murmured, and his gaze was on her lips.

"A really long time," he agreed, and her lashes fluttered down as he kissed her.


End file.
